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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051796">Sober</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/starswillow/pseuds/starswillow'>starswillow</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>That was Then This is Now - S. E. Hinton, The Outsiders - All Media Types, The Outsiders - S. E. Hinton</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Drinking to Cope, Song fic, and alcohol, smoking to cope as well, uhhhh drug mention</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 17:29:18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Not Rated</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>975</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/24051796</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/starswillow/pseuds/starswillow</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Angela Shepard lived in a constant cycle of meaningless dates and mediocre parties. She walked the halls floating outside her body, counting the seconds go by, waiting for the final bell to ring.</p><p>She never wanted to go home. She was sick of the fighting. She was sick of Tim and Curly constantly getting locked up. She was sick of her step-dad thinking he means anything to her. And she was tired, but no one saw that. </p><p>Everyone knew Angela was red lipstick and Friday night ragers and always down for anything. </p><p>song fic (Sober by Pink)</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>9</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Sober</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <em>
    <span>i don't wanna be the girl who laughs the loudest</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>or the girl who never wants to be alone</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>April 17th. It was Angel and Curly’s birthday. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Curly got busted drinking at school and got to spend his 16th birthday in juvie, and Angela got to spend it at the biggest party of the year. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Angela would rather be in jail. She’d never say it out loud, but she just wanted to spend her 16th with her brother. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Of course, she could spend it with Tim, but it wasn’t the same. They wouldn’t have a good time, and at least this way she could have a decent distraction. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i don't wanna be there calling 4 o'clock in the morning</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>cause i'm the only one you know in the world that won't be home</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is my least favorite part.” Angela whispered to herself. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What is?” Asked a voice behind her. She didn’t know who it was, she wasn’t positive anyone actually answered at all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“When the party’s over. When everyone else went home or passed out. And you feel like you’re one of the last people in the whole world that’s still awake. It sucks, because now you have to face reality.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You could always go to bed too.” Replied the voice behind her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She laughed, and shook her head, returning her focus to the scenery outside of the window. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>the sun is blinding</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i stayed up again</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She came down as the sun rose, the aftermath of drinking for hours and smoking anything she was offered starting to hit. She was dizzy and nauseous, and she felt as if people were screaming in her ears and hammering nails into her skull.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Most people would do anything to avoid feeling like this, but this was simply a side effect of being okay for a few hours. Everything felt better after a few shots, and there was no problem a couple grams couldn’t fix.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>oh, i am finding</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>that that's not the way i want my story to end</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It was right there, in the moment the sky turned pink and orange, that she crashed. Every time. Because she was always running from something, and one day she would run off a cliff. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i don't wanna be the girl that has to fill the silence</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>the quiet scares me 'cause it screams the truth</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Eventually she called Tim to ask for a ride home. The entire time was rambling about the party. She knew he didn’t care, and didn’t want to listen, but she kept talking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s another thing she runs from. Quiet. If there’s always something going on she doesn’t have to think. She hated talking all the time, though. It gave her a reputation for being loud and annoying. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>please don't tell me that we had that conversation</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>cause i won't remember, save your breath, 'cause what's the use?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought we talked about this.” Tim cut her off. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She stared at him, surprised he spoke to her at all. He usually just ignores her all together, it’s a miracle if he even realizes she’s talking. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Talked about what?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolled his eyes, gripping the wheel tighter. “About you going to parties with people you don’t know, taking shots you didn’t pour, taking free edibles, smoking whatever they give you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Angela can’t remember them ever having this kind of conversation. She knew he cared, but he usually showed it by arguing with her. They never talked about things. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t remember.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of fucking course you don’t. You ain’t ever stop drinking long enough to get anything through that skull of yours.” He snapped. “You don’t take anything seriously. This is important. I ain’t itchin’ to tell Curly his twin sister went to a party and got herself killed.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So this about Curly? You don’t give a shit about me, you just care that Curly’s happy? Great. Thanks a lot big brother.” She huffed, wiping her eyes quickly. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Watch your damn mouth, Angel. You know that ain’t what I meant.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Then what did you mean?” She yelled. “Have you ever thought about why I’m always drunk and I’m never home? Because I </span>
  <em>
    <span>hate</span>
  </em>
  <span> my life. I’m miserable! And the only person that acts like he gives a shit about me got arrested on our birthday! And it hurts too much, Tim. It hurts too much!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>And, it was in the passenger seat of Tim Shepard’s truck that Angela finally broke.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>the night is calling?</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and it whispers to me softly come and play</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>but i am falling</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>and if i let myself go i'm the only one to blame</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She hadn’t stopped crying since her breakdown that morning, and just wanted to feel better. She didn’t care what it took, she’d take anything if it could silence the screaming in her head. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She eventually found a stash of pills and half a gram of weed. After taking three at random, and forming a homemade bong out of a beer can, she let her worries slip away as she exhaled. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>i'm safe</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>up high</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>nothing can touch me</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>but why do i feel this party's over?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Angel always felt safer when she was in the clouds. If she could stay up there forever she would, coming down was like experiencing all the pain all over again. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>This time, though, she couldn’t enjoy her high, because she knew she was running. It was catching up to her, and she was running out of time. Eventually she’d have to deal with the real world. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>no pain inside</span>
  </em>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>you're like perfection</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now, she felt numb. Like a shell. The dread was piercing her skin like ice sickles, cold and sharp, but she couldn’t feel it. She sort of liked it. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>but how do i feel this good sober?</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How do I feel this good sober?” She asked her reflection.</span>
</p>
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